I guess each wedding story starts the same. With 3 simple words. "We Got Engaged". Actually, I guess it starts before that, with a guy (or girl) on bended knee, asking a girl (or guy) to be his wife (or husband).
This story started in a familiar way. It began with a man and a woman, approaching their 7 year anniversary. The man in this story, happening to be my fiance, H, and the woman happening to be...you guessed it...me. I really didn't expect it. With the interest my now-fiance was showing in marriage before the proposal I was beginning to believe that the proposal would happen when I was 80 years old, and that my man would ask me mid-shower if I wanted to get hitched.
Contrary to my beliefs about my partner's perceived lack of romance, the big moment happened quietly next to a serene lake, after enjoying a stroll together through a reserve land. Perfect for me, as I had dropped serious hints about the fact I did not want anyone else to enjoy the moment but me and him. Gawking strangers play no part in my love story.
Eventually I learnt that he had had the ring for nearly 5 months - he originally intended to propose during our trip to Japan but that the custom-made ring wasn't made in time. He tried to propose a few more times, but lack of intimacy (i.e. previously mentioned gawking strangers), a tick-bite causing me severe hypoglycaemia, and my irritability at being woken to watch the sunrise all played major hands in pushing the proposal further and further back.
So it happened, eventually. We Got Engaged. Here we are.
I'm starting this blog late, less than 2 months out from our big day. But I wanted to write it all down while I can at least remember SOME of it.
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